


the one where clint fell into a pond

by 1000_directions



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Crying During Sex, Dom Bucky Barnes, Falling into a Pond, Gags, M/M, Overstimulation, Rimming, Shower Sex, thigh fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 10:25:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19227271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1000_directions/pseuds/1000_directions
Summary: “I lost my keys,” Clint says with a casual grin. He’s soaking wet. He’s dripping a puddle in the hallway. His white t-shirt is completely transparent, and Bucky can perfectly make out the rosy peaks of his nipples and every last sculpted ridge of his abs.“You lost yourpants,” Bucky says dazedly. He can see Clint’s soft, generous dick through his thin white briefs. “Were you out in public like this?”





	the one where clint fell into a pond

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kangofu_CB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/gifts).



> for cb, my crymaxer-in-chief. nothing has ever been more anyone's fault than this story is your fault. thank u, love u.
> 
> if you need a visual (and you probably do), [this](https://66.media.tumblr.com/6fda07c00018eb302799ee4b0360d7d1/tumblr_psztfjawaE1s5kszfo1_500.jpg) is the nsfw pic she sent me with the text 'clint fell in a pond, somehow,' and now HERE WE ARE.

Someone won’t stop fucking knocking on the door to their apartment, and that someone sounds a lot like Clint. By the time Bucky finally gets to the door, he’s had to endure the entire chorus of “Dancing in the Dark” thumped out against the jamb.

“I’m coming, Jesus,” he mutters as he undoes the deadbolt and opens the door, and then he promptly chokes on absolutely nothing.

“What,” he says dumbly.

“I lost my keys,” Clint says with a casual grin. He’s soaking wet. He’s dripping a puddle in the hallway. His white t-shirt is completely transparent, and Bucky can perfectly make out the rosy peaks of his nipples and every last sculpted ridge of his abs.

“You lost your _pants_ ,” Bucky says dazedly. He can see Clint’s soft, generous dick through his thin white briefs. “Were you out in public like this?”

“Yeah, guess so,” Clint says ruefully, scratching the back of his neck in a way that makes his pecs look positively obscene. Bucky knows this because _he can see all the way through his damn shirt_. “Can I come in already? It’s cold out here.”

“Yeah, your nipples already told me that,” Bucky says, stepping aside. Clint follows him into the apartment, and Bucky’s shirt gets damp when Clint brushes past him, but Bucky does not care one single bit, because now all he can focus on is the way Clint’s underwear hugs the curve of his ass, so perfectly molded to the shape of his body that it doesn’t leave anything to the imagination. Bucky thinks he might even be able to make out the shadow of his hole. _Fuck_.

“I fell in a pond,” Clint says. “In case you were wondering.”

“Of course you did,” Bucky mumbles. He wants to bite Clint’s thighs. He wants to lick the pondwater off his hipbones. What the fuck?

“Do you want to hear about it?” Clint asks hopefully.

“Nope,” Bucky says, dropping to his knees and nuzzling into Clint’s stupid perfect abs before wrinkling his nose. “Jesus, you smell like pondscum.”

“I _said_ I fell into a _pond_ ,” Clint repeats impatiently. “Be careful, you’re gonna end up with a mouthful of parameciums.”

“Paramecia,” Bucky says idly, then he shakes his head. “Shut up. Come with me.” He stumbles to his feet, thrown a little off balance by how fast all the blood in his entire body has apparently rushed straight to his dick. He wraps his fingers around Clint’s wrist and tugs, leading him quickly down the hallway to the bathroom.

“‘Paramecia’ would be a great safeword,” Clint says, reaching for the hem of his t-shirt, but Bucky tightens his grip on Clint’s wrist without meaning to. “What’s up, babe?”

“Leave it,” Bucky says. “Okay? Is that okay?”

“Whatever,” Clint says, hopping up onto the counter and swinging his legs. His dick is flopping about in his briefs, which Bucky can see because _they are see-through_. It’s somehow even more obscene than if Clint were completely naked. Fuck a paramecium, Bucky wants his mouth on that cock _now_.

He careens towards the shower, yanking back the curtain and frantically turning on the tap. He gives it a few seconds to heat up and then he can’t fucking wait any more, he’s wrapping his hands around Clint’s waist and lifting him up. Clint shrieks and bicycles his legs in the air as Bucky marches him across the room and deposits him into the shower fully clothed.

Well. Not _fully_ clothed. _God_.

“What the fuck?” Clint whines as the shower pounds down on him. “I was just starting to dry off.”

“You were not,” Bucky disagrees, inelegantly shucking off his own clothing. “You were very wet, babe.”

“C’mere,” Clint murmurs, extending his glistening muscled arms to Bucky, and Bucky is helpless to refuse. Clint looks like if a wet dream and the cover of a romance novel had a baby, and Bucky wants to put his mouth on every perfect inch of him. Naked, he steps into the shower and into Clint’s embrace, and Clint’s body is warm and wet and fabric-soft against his own bare skin.

Clint ducks his head, rivulets of water streaming down his face from his hair, but before he can get close enough for a kiss, Bucky shakes his head.

“Nope,” Bucky says. “Rinse first. Get all the paramecia out of your mouth.”

“They’re not in my mouth,” Clint says with a grimace, but he listens anyway, gulping a mouthful of shower water and gargling melodramatically.

It shouldn’t be sexy. It’s _not_ sexy. Bucky keeps stroking his ribs through his t-shirt anyway. It’s horrifying how hard he is.

“Better?” Clint asks after he spits, and Bucky’s on him in a flash, looping his arms around Clint’s neck and a thigh around his waist as he falls into his body mouth-first, seeking out his wet, luscious lips. He feels Clint smile against his mouth, but it’s not _funny_ , this is _serious_. Bucky is seriously going to die if he doesn’t choke on Clint’s dick in the next five minutes.

“So fucking sexy,” Bucky mutters. He bites Clint’s lip, then soothes the sting with his tongue, aggressive, possessive, repentant.

“Don’t you want to hear how I fell in a pond?” Clint asks breathlessly in between kisses.

“Nope,” Bucky grunts. He falls to his knees again, dragging his mouth down Clint’s torso as he does, licking off the shower water and drawing the stark lines of his muscles with his greedy tongue.

“I fell out of a helicopter,” Clint says, leaning back against the wall and fitting a hand into Bucky’s hair.

“Don’t care.” Bucky pokes his tongue into Clint’s belly button through his shirt, and he does it again when Clint tries to wriggle away.

“My pants got caught in an old fishing line,” Clint insists.

“Shut up,” Bucky says, pressing Clint’s hips to the wall with both of his hands and messily mouthing at his cock. He hums happily as Clint’s dick twitches under his lips. “Stop talking and let me appreciate how fucking hot you are,” he says to Clint, to his dick, to the sturdy cut of his thigh, to the clean taste of his skin.

“Don’t you want to hear what happened to me?”

Bucky is trying to _focus_. He has a lot of ground to cover, and he wants to get his tongue on every last sliver of Clint’s pale wet skin before they both start getting pruny, and Clint needs to shut up and let that happen.

But first….

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Bucky asks softly. He presses a lingering kiss to Clint’s abs and then leans back and looks up at him. “Did you get hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Clint says with a lopsided smile. “I mean, I fell into a _pond_ , but--”

“You know your word?” Bucky asks, cutting him off.

“Sure thing,” Clint says, cradling Bucky’s cheek in one huge hand. “Locomotive. I’m not even close to needing it, dumbass.”

“Cool,” Bucky says, surging to his feet. He yanks on the hem of Clint’s shirt, rolling it up his torso and bunching it near his shoulders. “Open, babe,” he says, tapping Clint’s lips, and Clint opens his mouth obediently. Bucky feeds the roll of fabric past his lips like a makeshift gag. “Love you,” Bucky says. Clint blinks at him, and Bucky presses an open-mouthed kiss to the fabric between Clint’s teeth. “Now shut up, please.”

Now that Clint’s shirt is out of the way, Bucky has acres of gorgeous, muscled flesh to play with, and he takes his time mouthing back down Clint’s torso, sucking kisses into his ticklish sides, scraping his teeth along the jut of Clint’s ribcage. He maps out the terrain of Clint’s body with his adventurous mouth, and Clint shudders and whines as Bucky licks the water droplets from his nipples and rubs his stubbled check against Clint’s sensitive skin. He slumps back down to his knees and bites at the waistband to his completely transparent white briefs.

“You’re a pretty fuckin’ picture,” Bucky murmurs admiringly, and Clint flushes everywhere, so easy for a compliment. Bucky mouths at the swell of his cock, feeling it jerk under his attention.

Clint is babbling something beneath his gag, but Bucky can’t make out any of the words, so he ignores him and focuses on the sight before his eyes. He’s on his knees, face to face with Clint’s hard, wet dick, and it’s exactly where he wants to be. Clint’s tenting his shorts, and the fabric is so thin that Bucky can see how flushed and red the head of his cock is as it strains against the material. Bucky shuffles forward on his knees, nuzzling between Clint’s thighs, slurping at the water sluicing over his full balls, and when Clint’s knees shake, Bucky pushes him firmly to the wall and doesn’t relent.

“Gorgeous,” Bucky mutters into Clint’s skin. He drags his lips along the curve of Clint’s cock, tracing the shape of him through the fabric, licking and sucking along the underside of his twitching dick as Clint’s moans get higher pitched and his knees tremble like he can barely hold himself upright. But it’s okay, because he doesn’t have to. Bucky will hold him together, right up until he takes him apart.

He presses his lips to the clothed head of Clint’s cock in a filthy kiss, flicking his tongue over the head, sucking teasingly at the fabric. Clint whimpers and groans, and his cock jerks suddenly, and the next time Bucky nurses at the fabric, he tastes Clint’s precome mixed in with the shower water.

“Do you like that?” Bucky whispers. He leans back and looks up at Clint’s face.

Clint looks ruined already, face red and flushed, t-shirt gag soaked with his drool, eyes dark and needy. He’s breathing heavily through his nose, and his whole chest is flushed with arousal, heaving with each breath, and he keeps blinking like he’s trying to focus on Bucky.

“Turn around, sweetheart,” Bucky says, running a soothing hand over Clint’s inner thigh. “Let me play with you a bit.”

Clint nods, and his eyes shut for a moment as his breathing gets labored and intentional. When he opens his eyes again, they look a little glassy, but he smiles weakly around the gag and turns so that he’s facing the wall. Bucky runs his hands over the expanse of Clint’s legs, smoothing his palms over strong hamstrings and exquisite hip abductors. Clint’s body is phenomenal, so sleek and powerful, perfectly sculpted and entirely on display for Bucky’s benefit.

“You look like a work of art, baby,” Bucky murmurs, running an appreciative hand over the abundant swell of Clint’s ass. “Good enough to eat, even.”

Clint begins making plaintive, wild noises, and even though there are no words to accompany his whines, Bucky knows what he’s begging.

_Please. Please._

“I’ve got you,” Bucky says, kneading at the firm muscles in Clint’s ass. Jesus, his body is insane.

Bucky ducks his head and drags his tongue between Clint’s clothed asscheeks, tracing the line of his crack, stuttering over the place where he feels the slightest dip and knows he’s reached Clint’s hole.

Clint’s reaction is immediate as he lets out a broken whine that his gag can’t completely muffle. He brings his thighs together, but Bucky’s hands are there, holding them apart. He nips at the underside of Clint’s left asscheck, and Clint’s muscles tense so beautifully as he arches his back and tries to hold still.

“You’re okay,” Bucky says. “Yeah? Let me know if you’re okay.”

Clint reaches back with one shuddering arm and slowly fingerspells _O-K_ , forming the shapes deliberately and unmistakably.

“Good,” Bucky says, kissing the knob of Clint’s extended wrist. “Hey babe, pull your briefs to the side for me. Lemme see you.”

Clint nods jerkily and crosses his arm behind his back, grasping the seat of his underwear and dragging it to one side, stretching the fabric taut over his ass, exposing his hole. Bucky’s quiet for a moment, just observing. Just watching Clint put himself on display for Bucky’s enjoyment. Clint’s arm is so tense, and Bucky watches the twitch of his leg muscles, seeing him fight his own instinct to close his legs, to cover himself up. Clint patiently, relentlessly keeps himself open and vulnerable for Bucky, and it’s a thing of goddamn beauty. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Bucky finally murmurs, and Clint hiccups and sniffles.

Bucky leans forward and flicks the tip of his tongue over Clint’s hole, not pressing inside, just becoming reacquainted with an old friend. Just saying, _hi, I missed you, let’s catch up_. He traces the puckered skin delicately, and Clint shivers from the tease of it.

Bucky loves this. He loves taking Clint apart with his mouth, and he loves how much Clint loves it, too. He prods at Clint’s hole with his tongue, more inquisitive now, curiously trying to see how far inside he can get. Clint’s tight, but Bucky can feel him consciously trying to relax, to make himself loose and pliant and receptive to Bucky, and Christ, Bucky is trying not to focus on himself right now, but he’s so fucking hard that he feels his dick throb with every heartbeat.

“Can you bring your other hand back here and hold yourself open for me, darling?” Bucky whispers to Clint’s perineum. Clint shudders and stumbles for a moment, but then he’s methodically widening his stance, planting his feet carefully as he reaches behind himself, one hand on each cheek, spreading himself open for Bucky.

Bucky immediately leans forward, swiping his tongue over Clint’s hole in slow, long strokes, using the flat of his tongue to paint his spit over Clint’s crack and push it towards his hole.

“Gonna get you nice and wet,” Bucky murmurs, and Clint lets out a muffled sob.

The next time Bucky pokes his tongue inside, Clint loses his balance and pitches forward. Without his arms to catch him, he falls against the wall, eyes closed, cheek pressed to the warm tile. He’s crumpled into the wall, barely able to hold himself up, but he keeps his hands stubbornly in place, holding himself open for Bucky to enjoy.

Bucky pulls back then, wraps a gentle hand around Clint’s ankle. “You’re doing so good,” Bucky praises him, and Clint’s toes wiggle happily. “God, sweetheart, you’re doing perfect for me. Holding yourself open so well. Do you have any idea how good you look like this? I can see all the way inside you, babe. I’m gonna get my tongue all the way inside you.”

Clint cranes his neck over his shoulder, looks down at Bucky who’s looking up at him. Bucky can see now just how hard he’s been crying. His eyes are red, and his face is a mess of tears, and he’s sniffing and blinking as he looks down at Bucky.

Bucky covers one of Clint’s hands with his own, and he presses three chaste, gentle kisses to Clint’s forearm.

“Is that what you want, Clint?” Bucky asks softly. “Do you want my tongue inside you, darling?”

Clint nods hastily, and Bucky smiles.

“Just relax and let me take care of you,” Bucky says soothingly. “You can rub yourself against the wall if you’d like. Would that feel nice?”

Clint nods again, tears streaming down his face.

“Leave your hands back here for me,” Bucky says, “but make yourself feel good.”

Clint begins to swivel his hips, working his swollen dick against the unforgiving shower wall, and Bucky has to pause for a moment to watch him, the devastating wantonness of Clint with his arms behind his back and his hedonistic hips greedy for _anything_. It’s inelegant and needy, and tears keep squeezing past Clint’s shut eyes as he groans and humps the wall.

“Don’t come until I say,” Bucky whispers, and Clint’s answering wail is so loud that Bucky almost can’t hear the slick, messy sound his tongue makes when he fucks it back into Clint’s body.

Almost.

Clint’s doing a great job holding himself open for Bucky’s mouth, for the scratch of his stubble against his tender flesh and the relentless prod of his tongue. But Bucky helps him anyway, fitting his own hands over Clint’s and pushing his even wider open, helping him stretch himself to his own limits. He toys with Clint’s hole, flicking his tongue over the rim lazily and then plunging it deep, and Clint rubs his dick clumsily against the wall while also trying to rock back into Bucky’s arrhythmic tongue-fucking, caught in a trap of decadent overstimulation.

Bucky pulls back, watches the wink of Clint’s loosened hole as it tries to tighten around nothing, and he sees the raw, reddened skin between his cheeks where Bucky’s stubble has roughed him up, and he hears Clint trying unsuccessfully to hold back his own sobs as he juts his ass backwards frantically, seeking out Bucky’s tongue, always looking for more, more, more.

“Lovely, sweetheart,” Bucky says softly. He wraps his hand around around Clint’s dick, just this side of too tight, and he presses his thumb consideringly to the slit before loosening his grip enough for Clint to fuck his fist. “You can come whenever you want.”

Bucky thought Clint might brace himself against the wall, but he leaves his hands where they are, holding himself open, so Bucky can see the way his hole twitches and contracts as he fucks into Bucky’s grip, ungainly and desperate and determined. Bucky leans in, presses a dirty, open-mouthed kiss to Clint’s eager hole, and Clint shouts, and sobs, and comes.

“Perfect,” Bucky murmurs, squeezing his hand around Clint’s cock as he shoots off against the shower wall, milking him to completion and then past it, continuing to stroke him casually as Clint shudders, all the muscles in his body seeming to go lax at once. He slumps into the wall, boneless, spent, and his only movement is the way his softening cock twitches in Bucky’s grip, oversensitive and protesting.

Clint’s mumbling something against his gag that Bucky can’t make out, so he stops his hand at once, cradling Clint’s dick loosely as he reaches up and slips the spit-soaked shirt out from between his teeth.

“You need me to stop?” Bucky asks, thumbing at the wet corner of Clint’s mouth.

“I,” Clint says, cheek still pressed to the wall, eyes focused on nothing in particular. He swallows again, sniffles through his tears. “I.”

“Babe,” Bucky says, letting go of Clint’s dick and standing up. He places his hands soothingly on Clint’s ribs. “Baby, do you need to say your word?”

Clint blinks, then he shakes his head. “No,” he says forcefully, looking into Bucky’s eyes as he deliberately puts the gag back into his own mouth and turns to face the wall again, hands pressed to the tile just above his head.

Bucky inhales shakily, because _fuck_. He knows Clint loves this, loves to cede control to Bucky’s whims, trusting that he’ll be cared for and cherished and pushed exactly to his limits and not one iota further. But still, it’s always a fucking rush to see it in action. Bucky fists his dick, and his cock is fat and happy and insistent in his grip. He’s ready to chase his own pleasure.

“Gonna fuck your thighs now, baby,” Bucky says, trying to keep his tone neutral, even as his cock blurts out a bit of precome.

He reaches for his bottle of conditioner and pours a little into his hand, slicking up his dick just enough to ease the glide. He slots his hard cock between Clint’s thighs, and Clint whimpers as the head of Bucky’s dick nudges against his spent balls inside his wet briefs.

“Legs together,” Bucky whispers.

Clint scrambles to comply, squeezing his thighs together as best he can. It’s not perfect, but it’s good. It’s really, really fucking good, and Bucky starts to fuck the tight, slippery space between Clint’s thighs without even meaning to. He’s so fucking wound up from watching Clint fall apart that he knows this won’t take long at all. He’s already desperate to shoot off, but he wants to see how much further he can push Clint. How much more Clint can take. Because he knows, he _knows_ that Clint can take a lot.

He pushes Clint’s underwear down abruptly, rubbing the head of his cock over Clint’s hole in a way that makes them both hiss. Then he fits his dick between Clint’s thighs again, pulling his underwear back up as high as it will go, tangling the two of them up together, keeping his dick nestled tight and close to Clint’s own. Bucky grabs a fistful of fabric and wraps it around both of their cocks, squeezing for just a moment, just long enough for Clint to whine and gasp, rubbing his cheek against the tile wall like he’s just so fucking desperate to be touched everywhere, like he needs to rub off every part of his body against anything he can find.

Bucky traces a curious fingertip around Clint’s open, exposed hole, and Clint whimpers, and his forehead thunks dully against the shower wall. Bucky tugs at Clint’s rim idly, calculatedly, and Clint starts to cry again, thrusting his ass backwards to meet the drive of Bucky’s cock.

“You’re doing so well,” Bucky says, wiggling just the tip of his index finger inside Clint’s hole, just keeping him full and open as he quickens the pace of his hips, fucking his cock relentlessly between Clint’s used thighs, catching Clint’s own soft dick with delicious friction every few thrusts, feeling the drag of wet fabric against the underside of his own cock. “Doing such a good job, sweetheart. You’re going to make me come.”

He’s close, he’s so fucking close, and that’s when he pulls out, his cock hard and red and angry and so close to release. He ignores his instincts, which are yelling at him to _keep going, dumbass_ , and he grabs Clint by the shoulders and spins him around.

“Get on your knees,” he says unceremoniously, and Clint slumps gracelessly, more clumsy than usual with his underwear tangled around his thighs, smacking his knees on the tile floor and not even seeming to notice. He puts his hands behind his back without Bucky even asking him to, settling back on his haunches and looking up at Bucky expectantly, adoringly. Tears are still falling beautifully down his face, and he’s ready for more, and that’s.

Christ, that’s a lot.

Bucky takes himself firmly in hand and touches the head of his dick to the gag between Clint’s lips. Clint leaves his eyes open, waiting to be good, waiting to be whatever Bucky needs.

From beneath the gag, Bucky feels the answering prod of Clint’s greedy tongue, pushing through the fabric to lick lovingly at the swollen crown of Bucky’s cock.

“You’re so fucking good,” Bucky whispers as he begins to come, his dick still pressed to Clint’s gagged mouth. He rubs his cock back and forth, smearing his come into the fabric. He fits one gentle hand to Clint’s throat and feels the movement as he sucks, then swallows, his devout face still turned towards Bucky’s.

Bucky’s knees tremble almost imperceptibly as he feels himself get a little shaky, a little lightheaded from the power of his orgasm. Almost immediately, Clint’s on his feet, wrapping Bucky up in his powerful arms. Bucky breathes, even and measured, resting his head against Clint’s chest, and then he presses a soft, lingering kiss to Clint’s sternum.

Bucky lets Clint hold him and clean him. He closes his eyes and lets Clint rinse them both off, and he hears when Clint turns off the tap, and he follows him out of the shower and lets Clint wrap them both up in a big towel.

Bucky smiles hazily at Clint, then he pushes up onto his toes and kisses him deep and wicked, cupping his face with a possessive hand and licking deep into his wanton mouth. Then, he pushes Clint’s ruined briefs down his thighs, kneeling to help Clint step out of them, first one foot, then the other, and Bucky runs an adoring hand over each of his powerful, beautiful calves in turn. He stands up again and pulls Clint’s shirt off over his head. Bucky throws all the wet clothing back into the shower, and then he takes the towel, and he dries Clint off, reverent, painstaking. He kisses the dried tear-tracks running down Clint’s face, mapping each one from the thin skin under his eyes all the way down his cheeks to his strong, sharp jaw. He kisses Clint’s face until all of the tears are gone, and then he kisses him more.

They take care of each other. They always do.

“C’mon,” Bucky murmurs, fitting his hands into Clint’s and giving him a gentle squeeze. “I want to hear all about how you fell into a pond, babe.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr post](https://1000-directions.tumblr.com/post/185612238974/title-the-one-where-clint-fell-into-a-pond-link)


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